


breathing space

by rkvian



Series: Honey Whiskey [5]
Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Apex Legends are Friends, Character Study, F/M, Living is More Than Surviving, Miraith Centric, Wraith Needs a Hug, always unconditional honesty and respect, which is the best foundation for friendship and coincidentally romantic love too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:53:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26317480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rkvian/pseuds/rkvian
Summary: Post Broken Ghost.Wraith feels a little lost.
Relationships: Mirage | Elliott Witt/Wraith | Renee Blasey
Series: Honey Whiskey [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1811650
Kudos: 29





	breathing space

**Author's Note:**

> written to NOVEMBER LIGHT's [Talk](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3xYHq2vrKR8)

There’s loud, affectionate bickering from inside Mirage’s empty bar. Usually the topic revolves around the Apex Games—about vantage points in King's Canyon and World's Edge they could take advantage of, Legends they should start looking out for, and weapons that could be added to the rotation in the future. Other times it’s Bangalore, Lifeline and Gibraltar verbal wrangling the morals of Frontier Corps and SARAS. Once, they even got Bloodhound to talk about the forest they used to hunt when they were younger and how they rescued Artur as a hatchling.

Right now though, it’s Lifeline giving a drunk Wattson, a tipsy Octane, and a very drunk Crypto a stern talking about _not_ giving Pathfinder a glass of crude oil because the MRVN does _not_ eat or drink despite their counter arguments and beliefs.

“He ain’t yuh project—”

“But what if he can f—”

“He’s a _MRVN_ , Silva, he won’t fly.”

“ _Ani_.” Crypto mentioned being a lightweight drinker, none of them expected that meant two bottles and a half. “You wouldn’t know that cause you haven’t tried. If it was up to me—”

“You’d equip Path jet packs?” Wattson perked up. “That would be awesome.”

“Yeah, _majayo_ ,” He waved his finger to the Defender, “I will equip him with jet packs and he’ll be able to fly to the wind and like…” He extended his arms sideward, almost hitting Wattson next to him and Octane on the other end with his arm, “free.” 

"That sounds fun friends." Path raised a finger, "I would be like Hack flying across the map."

"No." Lifeline said, "For an entirely different reason."

Bangalore, Bloodhound, and Gibraltar snickered from the adjacent bar countertop. Caustic remained in his corner with a glass of Cosmopolitan Wattson mockingly ordered for him and Loba sat a little distant from them, in that familiar way of looking both interested and uninterested at the same time. 

It’s a night of Celebration for the team.

They figured out what and exactly who Loba's treasure was, prevented the IMC sect on getting their hands on her, and made peace between the Translocational Thief and the Synthetic Nightmare in a way that was really more of a business deal than a truce. Within moments, the topic moved into _what if Apex Games but without Jump_ _Kits_ , and all of them agreed Octane will probably the first to go.

"From trying out his jump pad." Lifeline scoffed.

Wattson added, "Or falling off a zip line."

"Or stealing someone else's loot and accidentally getting pushed off a ledge." Bangalore contributed.

" _Oye._ " Octane made a half-hearted noise of protest, "Those are all true."

Another bout of laughter passed over the bar.

It's moments like these that makes Wraith feel the outsider.

When the situation called for it, she was there, she’ll be in the middle of it willing to accomplish anything to save, to help, to protect. But after, when the adrenaline winded down, Wraith always found herself slinking into the background. It’s not that she didn’t thought of them as friends, she just...wasn't sure how to interact with them when the things weren't hanging between life or death. That, and a couple of other things.

She rose from her spot near Loba, ignoring the raise of a delicate eyebrow, and head to the front door.

_I wasn't feeling well, I forgot to turn off the oven in my apartment, I have an emergency, or, thing. Very important._

Evening breeze puffed against her face, and Wraith took a deep breath, held and exhaled deeply. Solace's night life was starting to wake up now that it was close to midnight, trading white bulbs from commercial buildings for bright neon lights. The streets were winding down to the occasional boisterous groups of people passing by. It's the sound of her name that made her look down the stairs of the bar connecting to the side walk.

“Hey,” Mirage blinked at her over the boxes of pizzas and snacks, “You’re leaving already?”

Her mouth opened for an excuse but snapped shut because it would have worked on everyone else, but not him. _I wasn't feeling well_ , and he'd say _the pass out kind or not?_ She can say _I forgot to turn off the oven in my apartment,_ and he'd snort _you don't have one_. Then _I have an emergency_ , and he'll tell her without hesitation, _let's go_. Instead she shrugged, walking down steps until she was just a step above him. “I needed some air.”

“I hear ya.” He scoffed, “The bar can get stuffy without air conditioning at this time of year. Ain't got a clue how they can take it.”

“It’s because Caustic's old joints can't take the cold, I think.”

His lips curved into a grin, “Yeah, damn it.”

The two of them moved past each other, their boots thumping dully against polished mahogany flooring. 

Mirage made halfway when he stopped and looked back. “Want me to come with you?”

“I won’t be long.” She said. There’s something on his face that made it obvious he didn't entirely believe her. “Just sorting my thoughts.”

He shifted from foot to foot, “Is it the Simulacrum?”

“No.” The tone of her voice was crisp and immediate, so she rectified. “A little.”

“Guess that’s normal.” Mirage clicked his tongue playfully. “Loba didn’t pay us after all. Free service is always bad for business.”

Wraith huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “It’s not that.”

“What is it then?” His brows furrowed, “Not that I’m forcing you to talk if you ain't up for it or something. But I’m always willing to listen.”

Wraith drummed her fingers against the railing. That’s true. He pushed at times he knows she's going to push back hard, but never when he knows she's about to snap. He didn't ask overtly personal questions, dropped topics entirely when she refused to humor it, but he did call her out when she was bullshitting her answers, which is maybe why she found it easy to be honest with him. Eventually, and after carefully considering it, she dragged her eyes from worn out wood to meet his.

“I don’t know why I’m still here.”

Mirage stared back, rattling the large can of peanuts when he moved. “Uh, okay, this does sound serious." He nodded, "Tell me more?”

"I told you my name. I told you how I got this way, and that the person responsible for me is dead." She shifted her weight between her feet. “I never told you I... The first thing I did was look into citizen databases. Typhon was impossible, but I managed Gridiron, Nabil and a few others. There are 302 Renee Blaseys in the Frontier alone, so I'm hoping..." She licked her lips, "I _hoped_ I would find anything.”

“And?”

“No ands. I got a but.” Her lips twitched although there’s no humor to it. “I found no one. It led nowhere. All of them are dead ends, most of them are dead. I figured if I was important to someone, they'd look for me too.” She glanced at the streets where a loud car zipped by. “Then Loba and her treasure hunt came up and I didn’t have a lot of time to think about it.”

He asked, “What do you plan to do now?”

“That’s the question, isn’t it? I have no purpose. I don’t know why I’m still here.” Wraith said waving a loose hand, “What _do_ I do now?”

It’s rhetorical. She wouldn’t have minded if he didn’t answer her because she knew this was a fleeting feeling, and it’s probably gone tomorrow with the sunrise, when she’s not drunk anymore to rattle off thoughts she would otherwise keep to herself, when she finds an interesting trail to follow or when any of their friends get into another life or death mess the rest of them have to pull out of.

But then Mirage's footsteps made her look up, and he's tugging her into a one-arm hug.

“You can travel the galaxy until you find what you’re looking for.” He murmured against the side of her head, “You can stay here too, with the rest of us. No one can tell you what to do anymore, Renee. This is your life. You’re free.”

A heavy thrum began constricting in her chest and she blinked up to the starry sky, her jaw clenching. It was more difficult than how he’s putting it. He has no idea how many sleepless nights she spent sneaking, stealing, and devastating her way into getting what she wanted and needed, but there’s a sudden knot in the back of her throat, painful and heavy, and she’s scared her voice will crack if she said a word. 

“Of course,” Mirage began, balancing the stack of food, “if you decide to stay, there’s big chance Loba might find another way to get all of us killed. On the bright side, well, me.” He paused, "Oh, the others too, but mostly me."

"Between dying to the Games and dying in the middle of nowhere," She chuckled wetly, “I don't have much choice, do I?”

“On the contrary," He said, "you have a lot."

Wraith dropped her forehead against his shoulder and his arm tightened around her. She tried saying something, a _thank you_ , maybe, but her breath hitched and she didn't dare open her mouth again. For a time, she stayed in his warmth and let her self be vulnerable. Then it got awkward and she let go. He pulled himself back, still smiling at her.

“It’s just something to think about.”

With a nod at each other, he continued on his way.

She can leave. Right now. She didn't even have to go through the pains of saying goodbye, she can just disappear. Sure, they would be upset with her, but they'll deal with it. Mirage, at very least, would respect her decision.

She didn't have that much money to live leisurely for the rest of her life, but she can get a grunt job somewhere. She could travel too, although she’s been travelling for the last six years. She’s seen the Outlands, the good and the worst. She's witnessed the War in the Frontier, the desolated lands and the dwindling untouched havens. There were a few places she could visit but never anywhere else she really saw herself staying. It'll be like her life after escaping the IMC Laboratory again, and she'd still be looking over her shoulder in case there was anyone who wanted to dissect her for her arm and the tech.

Would it be the life she wants? She's already free. That meant she could stay anywhere she wanted right?

Wraith glanced between Solace City and the rest of the galaxy, and back to the steps of Paradise Lounge.

Freedom, she mused, is being able to make her own choices.

When she opened the door, Mirage already grinning at her a little away from direct view of the bar. The snacks are gone, but he does have a hand hooked in his blue jeans, leaning against the wall like he's a model advertising a clothing brand.

“Hello there.”

“Why,” She deadpanned, more embarrassed than surprised. “aren't you there?”

“I was waiting for you.”

“What if I didn’t return?” She raised an eyebrow.

“You would eventually.”

“How do you know?” She challenged.

“Have you seen this face?” He made an intricate gesture, “No one—not even you—can live for a long time without seeing this.”

"Right." She rolled her eyes. He laughed and the sound of it made her smile. "Don't push it."

It was chaos when they returned to their booth. Lifeline was drumming on DOC while Bloodhound sung in their mother tongue. Crypto quipped back at Gibraltar's comment above the loud beat, making Wattson and Octane break into fits of giggles. Caustic was scribbling into a pocket notebook and looking between his—second and third?—Cosmopolitan, and Artur and Hack whizzed by, playfully grazing against Loba’s braids while Bangalore stopped talking to snicker at her. The drone and the raven landed on either side of Pathfinder’s shoulders who waved at the two of them. Mirage waved back.

_Someone’s looking at you._

The Trickster turned his head conspiratorially at her, “Think the crazy murderbot can see this happen?”

Before Wraith could answer, a voice, “Yes, Mirage. The crazy murder bot can see this.”

His eyes widened comically, and the two of them sprang away from the source of the voice. Behind them, prowling up the stairs in all his eerie glory was Revenant.

“W-what’s—what the hell? What’s wrong with you, man?" He paused, "Wait, what are you even doing here?”

“I was invited, was I not?”

The Nightmare moved past the two of them, and the Trickster groaned, “ _Silva!_ ”

Their group’s reactions were mixed between surprise, annoyance, tolerance and humor. All the same, they _were_ celebrating and they all did contribute to the success of the mission. With drinks in the air, they said:

“To teamwork.”

“To Nat’s recovery.”

“To Tavi’s!”

“To finding and completing the treasure hunt.”

“And fixing Loba’s mess.”

Laughter broke across the booth and they all glanced to Loba standing at the edge of the group, waiting for her reaction. The Thief raised her champagne glass and rolled her eyes.

“To saving me.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! :)♡  
> when conceptualizing this, i figured Wraith's the kind of person who always wants a goal to work toward to, something that Mirage would also help her with. she likes being productive and he helps her relax and live in the moment.


End file.
